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Desperate Acts

Chapter 6

General Hammond had agreed to give Daniel and Casey an additional day off, since they'd technically been 'working' on what was to have been a down day for SG-1. The general had chuckled at the young seer's reasoning. Understood that she was still feeling a bit shaky from the experience. It was one thing to face the Goa'uld. It was another to have agents of a foreign government break into one's home and to be abducted at knife point.

They'd slept late; Daniel had surprised her with a request for blueberry muffins, which she'd made. She'd started laundry, and he'd disappeared into his den. Which happened every time she started laundry, she grumped. Occasionally he'd toss a load into the washer for her, or switch a load from the washer to the dryer. Only if she asked him to do so, however. Most of the time it was just easier to do it herself.

Casey heaved a sigh as she folded the newspaper. Section by section. Why did he just toss the sports pages to the floor? A not so subtle commentary on all things jock, no doubt. Another coffee mug? She glared in the direction of the den. If it wasn't in his hand when he moved from one room to another, he forgot about it, and simply pulled another from the cupboard.

Damn it to hell! Where are those books? He needed them for this particular translation. He was sick and tired of her moving things around! This was his office, damn it! The only place in the house that belonged totally to him. The fact that under that particular criteria his Wife had nowhere to call her own evaded him. Nor would he have wanted to deal with that fact had it not. "Casey!"


"I told you to leave the stuff on my desk alone!"

Oh, he so did not just say that! "I haven't touched your damned desk!"

"Three of my books are missing!"

Yeah, so it's my fault, Mr. Couldn't-be-organized-if-your-life-depended-on-it? "Look under all your papers!"


She deposited the three additional 'discovered' dirty mugs into the sink with the others. Stomped toward the den to find Daniel rifling through the stacks of notes and research papers that cluttered the top of his desk. He was muttering something about 'people' leaving 'his stuff' alone. She resisted the urge to bop him one. Barely. "Which books are you looking for?"

"Two reference books, both on the Ancient Phoenicians, and one on the similarities of dialects of diverse areas," he grumbled.

"Those are the titles?"

"Huh? No." He looked up, frowned. What were the titles? The book on dialects had been his father's. He knew it by sight; by feel if he wasn't looking at it. The other two...what the hell difference did it make? The books were missing, and he needed them! If she'd just leave his den alone...! If he wanted stuff moved, he'd move it, thank you very much!

She leaned against the filing cabinet. On top of which a Latin dictionary and a book on Celtic runes were stacked precariously on top of a pile of notes. Which were on top of three other books. Pulling them out from under the stack, she took note of the titles. These had to be the books he was searching for. She tossed them into his lap, one at a time.

"Hey! Ow! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her hands went to her hips. "Me? What's wrong with me? You're the one biting my head off because you can't find books in this disaster area you call a den! I have been cleaning up the living room. Which includes reassembling and folding the newspaper. Just what do you have against keeping the sections together? And is it necessary to get a clean mug every time you pour coffee? Of course it is! How silly of me! If the damned thing isn't attached to your hand, you have no clue where you've left it! Just how in the hell you managed to survive before you had me to look after your disorganized ass, I'll never know! And if you don't mind, would it be too much trouble to ask that the towels go into the basket, not on the floor in front of it? Goddess knows you'll never be able to get your socks into the damned hamper! But the basket is sitting beside the shower! How damned hard can it be to hit it?"

Daniel stared up at her, still rubbing his thigh where the corner of one of the books had hit him. God, she'd better be getting that Deprovera shot tomorrow, or he was going to throttle someone! "You are PMSing," he stated calmly.

"I'm what? Oh, that's ridiculous! I don't even have periods for chrissake! How can I be PMSing?"

"I have no idea. But you are."

"All right Doctor Jackson, just how did you come to this interesting...and erroneous...conclusion?"

"Because you're a bitch today." He knew as soon as the words hit the air that he'd just said the most stupid thing a man could utter to a woman. Telling a woman she was behaving like a bitch was certain to get him into a world of trouble. Danger was thrown into the mix when said bitchy-behaving woman was experiencing PMS. Period or no period.

"You are an arrogant jerk!" she spat, whirling around to stomp back into the living room. She threw herself on to the sofa, crossed her arms over her chest. Just because she was frustrated with his less-than-stellar habits didn't mean she was anything other than just plain old-fashioned annoyed. Typical of Daniel, he had to examine the situation, break it down, and then identify what he believed was the problem...or solution. And then announce his theory, certain that he was right. But he wasn't. Not this time! PMS, my ass, she thought moodily. Even as her tirade continued to echo in her own ears.

"I rest my case," he mumbled moodily as he put the books on the desk. He stared at the notes he'd been taking, his concentration blown when he'd had to stop to search for them. He didn't remember putting them on the filing cabinet. Which didn't mean, his brain pointed out, that you didn't put them there. Just shut the fuck up, he grumbled silently. He looked around. Okay, where the hell had his coffee mug gone? He was halfway to the door before what she'd said filtered through to his conscious mind. Had he brought a mug in here? What the hell did it matter? They had plenty of the damned things! She was always finding them, with some saying or other on them that amused her. It seemed that one or two mugs came into the house with every trip she made to the mall.

The sight of five mugs in the sink brought him up short. They hadn't even been home yesterday. And the night before that, Casey had straightened the house before they went in to take their shower prior to going to bed, loading all of the mugs and dishes from the day into the dishwasher. He looked over at the clock that hung on the wall beside the entertainment center. Not quite three. Granted, at least one of those mugs had to be hers...He glanced at her, could see that she was sitting with her legs pulled up, her chin resting on her knees. He frowned, went to the bathroom. Four towels in the basket, that he could see. One more or less tossed in the general direction of the woven reed container. The one he'd used that morning. He bent over, picked it up, dropped it on top of the others.

He stopped in front of the counter that was nestled between the two pedestal sinks. Casey said it looked exactly like an old-fashioned dresser. It did at that, he had to admit. And on the marble top was a jumble of products and accessories and other miscellaneous items. She had a habit of using something, and then dropping it wherever. During the time she'd been missing, he'd been home a grand total of three times. The counter had been spotless, everything put into its place. He'd hated it.

"I'm sorry," her voice said softly from the doorway.

"Me, too," he replied just as softly.

He'd been staring at the counter. No matter her intentions, it always wound up like...that. She'd get it all cleaned off, and try so hard to put things away...but then they'd be in a rush to leave...When she walked into the room, started to sort through the mess, his hands closed over hers.

"Leave it," he said softly. "It lets me know you're home, and you're safe."

The words brought tears to her eyes. How could he be so willing to overlook her bad habits, when she'd just ranted about his? "I don't mind about the towels, or the socks, or the mugs," she whispered. And she didn't, not really. Not when she considered the alternatives. "It means you're here, and a part of my life."

"C'mere." He opened his arms, smiled when she walked into his embrace. He closed his eyes, felt her clinging to him. Then felt her body shaking. "Case?"

"I don't know what's wrong," she admitted, trying to gulp back her sobs.

"Do you have an appointment to get your shot tomorrow?"

She nodded. "I didn't think it was possible to have PMS without a period."

"We could look it up," he suggested, gently drying the tears from her cheeks with the back of his finger.

With a nod, she let him lead her into the den. Couldn't help but smile when he pulled her into his lap as soon as he'd settled into his chair. She pulled the keyboard closer, opened a browser window, typed in her query.

"Well, guess you were right," she admitted, after reading a report which stated that a woman on the Deprovera could indeed suffer from PMS symptoms, especially just before the next shot was due.

"Didn't you read the pamphlet Janet gave you?"

"Most of it," she mumbled. Well, she'd skimmed it. Nothing had caught her attention, nothing to question or worry about.

He shook his head. Apparently he was more aware of what was happening to her than she. Complete faith in Janet, that was the reason. That was why she hadn't bothered reading the pamphlet the petite doctor had given her. He'd read every word, watched for any of the listed side effects. Which, thank goodness, had never appeared. Except for the hormonal imbalance just before the next shot was due, manifesting in PMS-like symptoms. "Feel like taking a walk?"

"Sounds nice," she replied. She wiped at her cheeks. "Let me wash my face, and brush my hair."

He leaned against the door as he watched her. "I'm thinking Ba'al and Dartal were both lucky that you'd had your shot just before you were grabbed."

She glanced over at him. Thought about what she could remember of her time on the astral plane. She did remember fighting with a man...she couldn't remember his name, only that he was taking her farther away from the light that had meant escape. "I did kick someone's ass," she murmured.

Daniel grinned. Casey hadn't said much about what had happened to her, only enough to reassure him that she hadn't been mistreated...or raped. "Do tell."

One slender shoulder moved up and back down. "He was taking me away from my entry point, and seemed determined to keep me from getting to it," she replied.

"So you kicked his ass."

"Yep." She pulled her hair back, caught it with a large clip. Turned to face him. "He thought he'd have a little entertainment when we stopped for the night. I convinced him otherwise. I wonder if his nose is better."

"His nose?"

"I think I broke it when I smacked his face against my knee," she explained.

He shook his head, chuckled loudly. "You are one fierce lady, Casey Jackson."

"Only when I'm pissed off," she retorted.

"Pissed off and PMSing," he grinned.

"Aren't you glad it only happens once every three months?"

"Damned glad," he returned immediately, still grinning.

"Let's go for a walk," she said softly.

He held out his hand, lifted her fingers to his lips when she put them against his own. Led her out the front door, and down the sidewalk. Arm in arm they strolled up the street. The 'fight' had been dealt with. But it was habit for them to walk when they were fighting or arguing. It was a way to step back from the situation. For them to take a deep breath and examine whatever the underlying problem was, and to discuss it calmly, rationally. Find a solution, if one was needed. Or, as was the case this time, to simply acknowledge the fact that the air had been cleared between them. It might not work for everyone, Daniel thought. But it worked for them. And that was all that mattered.


A  A  A  A  A  A


Janet dropped the hypodermic needled onto the tray. "Well, that's it for three months. You say that you've had PMS symptoms the past few days?"

Casey nodded. "Oh, yeah. I didn't even realize it until Daniel and I had a fight yesterday. He sort of pointed it out to me. I looked it up online, and it's possible."

"Yes, it is," Janet replied. "This should take care of that problem."

"Daniel will be grateful," the slender blonde smiled.

The doctor smiled in return. "You're not experiencing any other side effects?"

"Nope. Trust me, Daniel would have noticed if I was. He notices everything about me," she said softly.

"I believe it's called love," Janet told her.

"That's what I've heard. This is the first time I've ever experienced it. Sometimes...sometimes it's overwhelming," Casey admitted.

Occasionally something would happen, something said, that would remind her just how much abuse...or at least neglect, that Casey had suffered. It never failed to bring a twinge of pain to her heart. Daniel, she was certain, suffered much more, knowing how close to the edge his wife had walked. Janet had no doubt that had he not entered the young seer's life, loneliness - and her battered self-esteem - would have eaten away at her until only a bitter shell of a woman would have remained. Daniel had been in just as much danger of closing himself off completely; until he'd have been unable to reach out, unable to love. Whatever Fates had stepped in - intervened, sent SG-1 on that trip to that alternate future reality - were responsible for saving both of them. "I've never seen Daniel as happy as he is now. If it's overwhelming for you, remember, he probably feels the same way at times."

"Thanks. I'll try to remember," Casey smiled. "See you later for coffee?"


With a wave, Casey jumped to her feet, and raced out the door.

"Does that woman ever walk anywhere?" Jill asked, with a grin.

"Are you kidding? She's a regular whirlwind," Janet retorted.


A  A  A  A  A  A


Ferretti took a breath. Rapped his knuckles against the open door. "Colonel?"

Jack looked up. "Hey, Ferretti. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could help me out. I need...contact information. For someone who can do a bit of digging around for me."

He frowned. "Digging for what?"

"Information. Of a personal nature."

He stared at the Marine for a moment. Digging? Personal information? "Ferretti, have you found a woman?"

The Marine barked with laughter. "Hell no! I got a good thing going with ex number two. We get drunk, we do the deed, then we go our merry way. Why the hell would I want to fuck that up?"

Jack shook his head and grinned. If he remembered correctly, Susan, who was ex number two, had loved her husband. She just couldn't live with him. He couldn't imagine having an...arrangement...like that with Sara. No, with her, it had always been all or nothing. "Anyone I know?"


Obviously the man wasn't going to go into detail. And he suspected that he already knew just who Ferretti was wanting to contact. Why he wanted to contact the former NID agent was the mystery. He opened one of his files. Grabbed a notepad and jotted down an email address. "Tell him that Starsky sent you. He'll understand. It'll be the only way he'll reply."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Colonel."

"Do I want to know about this?"

Ferretti grinned. "Probably not."

Jack nodded. "I'm not going to regret giving that to you, am I?"

The grin faded. "No, sir. Should have probably done this a long time ago. But then, some people don't let anyone know what they're going through. Makes it hard to help 'em out."

Okay, so totally lost and confused he was getting dizzy. "Right."

The major held up the slip of paper. "Thanks, Jack."

"You're welcome, Lou." He watched the man leave. If his gut had given him one bit of warning, he wouldn't have given the Marine the email address. It hadn't. Something was going on. But he'd find out what it was. Sooner or later.


A  A  A  A  A  A


He jogged toward the jeep. He had less than an hour to take care of everything. He grinned when he thought about Emma's delight in being in on the secret. She'd responded enthusiastically during his call that morning, while Casey had been drying her hair; and as arranged, had called the base, requesting him, saying that she had a problem with her plumbing, and she understood he was busy, but could he come take a look for her. General Hammond had sent him on his way with nary a blink. When he'd explained to Emma why he wanted to give Casey a night to remember, she'd told him that he was one in a million. Which seemed to indicate that she approved of his plan.

Because Janet had duty in the infirmary the day after the show 'Thunder From Down Under', the three friends had agreed to go to the first performance of the evening. Casey had assured him that she'd be home by ten, because the show ended at nine-thirty. When Sam had joked that the three women would be in need of their men after the show, Daniel had decided to take advantage of the situation. And offer Casey a night she'd never forget. In return for the afternoon that still filled his thoughts, often at the most inopportune times. Just a glimpse of something white could send him back to that hotel room, his heart pounding and his cock stirring to life as images of his Fantasy Angel danced through his mind. Most times, especially if he could find a corner to himself, he'd dig his wallet out of his pocket, and stare at the photograph of her...wings and halo and creamy skin and sexy smile. He adjusted the air conditioning in the jeep. Seemed damned hot all of a sudden.

He couldn't help but grin as he carefully went over the list of things he needed for 'The Plan'. He'd puzzled on how to prepare for the perfect night. The solution had come to him in a moment of pure genius. He looked it up online. Had actually spent several hours sorting through all of the information on seduction techniques, and how to arrange a romantic evening. He'd taken copious notes of his research. And then had come up with what he was certain would be the perfect night for her...for both of them.

Women loved flowers. Women loved roses. Casey was a woman. One hell of a woman, as a matter of fact. So he called the florist she always used, and made arrangements to have one dozen red roses delivered in the late afternoon on Friday, to Emma Hanks' address. The feisty senior citizen said that she'd be tickled to keep the flowers until Casey had left for the evening. He'd leave the arrangement sitting on the floor in the middle of the hallway. Which meant he'd have to make certain that she came in the front door. If Sam drove, and just dropped her off out front, that would be exactly what she'd do. He'd talked to his best friend, she was willing to help him out, even if he hadn't told her why. When Casey walked in the door after seeing 'Thunder From Down Under', a dozen red roses would be waiting for her. Okay, flowers...check.

Fifty bucks, and a dozen 'pick up lines' in four different languages had netted him a CD with three hours of romantic music on it. Tony Sabotti had assured him that every song was guaranteed to make her swoon. He'd listened to it, and figured the man was right. George Benson. Harry Connick, Jr. K. D. Lang. Michael Bolton. Celine Dion. A couple of dozen others - groups and solo artists. He recognized most of the names, Casey had music by a majority of the artists Tony had listed. All of the songs were soft, full of words of love and devotion, and would provide the ideal ambience. Casey's powerful and impressive stereo components were in the entertainment center in the living room. His own smaller stereo was in the bedroom. Which meant that they could play CD's in the bedroom whenever they wanted. And for her Fantasy night, that's what he wanted. Music...check.

Casey had dozens of candles. A few of them were on display, the others she kept in boxes in the den closet. Every color in the rainbow, she had. Surprisingly, she kept the scents to a minimum, preferring to have just one or two scents from the candles. Her favorite fragrances seemed to be jasmine and sandalwood. She'd burned the two together once or twice, the combined scent heady and erotic and perfect for the night he'd planned. So on her fantasy night, all of her candles would be in use. When she walked into the house, it would be illuminated in candlelight. Couldn't get more romantic than that, right? Mood lighting...check.




Daniel walked into the motorcycle shop. Took his time looking at the bikes on display. Didn't have a clue about them. Sam had mentioned riding once or twice. Apparently she'd had a boyfriend in college who had owned a motorcycle, and who'd instilled a love of riding them in her. He was aware that she'd rebuilt an Indian motorcycle, most of the work on the engine done in her lab during her 'off' time, before she and Jack had been allowed to be together. He'd heard rumors that Jack had a motorcycle as well, and that the two went riding whenever possible.

"May I help you, sir?" a young man with a wide smile and a ponytail asked.

"Um...yeah. I'd like to look at your riding gear," he said, hoping he sounded like he had a clue what he was talking about. Two hours online had given him an idea of what he wanted. But he wanted to see it first, to know that he was getting exactly what he wanted.

"Right this way. What kind of a bike do you own?"

"I don't own one," Daniel replied.

"Oh. Is the gear a gift for a friend?"

"Nope. For me."

"Just exactly what kind of gear are you looking for?"

"Leather riding chaps." That's right, try to figure it out, he thought, watching the young man's face wrinkle into a frown.

The frown changed to wide-eyed surprise, and he stared at Daniel for a minute.

"My Wife thinks they're sexy," Daniel offered, giving a 'what-can-you-do?' shrug.

"I think we have just the thing," the salesman grinned. He took Daniel to a display of several types of riding gear. He pointed to a pair of chaps. "I think this is what you're looking for."

The chaps would completely cover his legs. The back laced, so that he'd be able to adjust the buckled waistband. And they would leave his ass and groin completely exposed. Yep, they were perfect. "I'll take a pair," he said.

It only took a few minutes of discussion to determine just which size he needed. Purchase in hand, leaving the young man grinning from ear to ear, Daniel hurried back out to the jeep. Let the guy think whatever he wanted. The only person whose opinion on the subject mattered was Casey.

Okay, one pair of leather chaps. And he wouldn't be wearing a g-string, like the guy in the picture on the dancer's website had been wearing. Nope, the only thing that would be on his body would be the chaps. Let those damned male strippers top that! So...special apparel for the occasion...check.

Usually when they bathed together, had one of their 'special nights', Casey enjoyed a glass or two of wine. She'd discovered an Italian Merlot that she liked. He'd pick up a couple of bottles. With this thought in mind, he turned toward the liquor store located next to the Piggly Wiggly. Fifteen minutes later, two bottles of wine in hand, he mentally crossed the last item off of the list.

He made a quick stop at home, carefully hid the items he'd purchased in his closet, then hurried back to the base. As long as she didn't suspect anything, she wouldn't 'poke around', and try to sense what was going on.

The perfect night. A Fantasy Night. That's what he'd give her. Maybe she'd remember it with as much love as he remembered a perfect afternoon with his Fantasy Angel.


A  A  A  A  A  A


Casey hurried into the commissary, ready to spend a few minutes with her friends over a cup of hot coffee. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized as she slid into the chair beside Janet.

"Still working on that database?" Sam asked, sharing a knowing smile with Janet. They'd just been discussing the fact that Casey could get as caught up in her work as Daniel was apt to do.

She nodded, poured sugar and creamer into her coffee. "It wouldn't be so bad if these guys just stuck to their own jobs, but there's so much...crossover...which means tags and extra links. I'm to the point I just want to list the name and then put 'asshole' in the space for the description."

Janet nearly spit her mouthful of coffee, swallowed quickly, then giggled. "That pretty much sums it up from what we know."

The frown on Casey's face brought one to Sam's. "Casey? Is something wrong?"

Green eyes glanced up, locked with sapphire blue ones for a moment. She sighed, then nodded. "We have to take Ares out. He's dangerous. The thing of it is, I'm not sure it's going to be that easy. Or even possible."

Once again a look was exchanged between the two military women. "What did you find?"

"It's not so much what I've found, which is troubling enough. I mean, even in antiquity followers of other 'gods' were being warned to avoid him. The so-called 'gods' themselves tried to hold him in check, but seemed...afraid...of him," Casey admitted. "It's what I feel. There's...darkness...around him. Black and cold. And powerful. Not so much the Goa'uld. More like...something in him."

"In him?" Sam asked.

Casey took a deep breath. "I think that the host Ares chose was...possessed. By a daemon. I don't know that Ares is Ares...I mean, the Goa'uld took over the host. But I think the daemon took over the Goa'uld. Or at least controls it. I don't know if Ares is even aware of it."

Sam swallowed. Goa'uld weren't as easy to defeat as their success seemed to indicate. That the SGC, and SG-1 in particular, had been able to take down as many snakes as they had was indicative of determination and hard work, and lots of good luck. To go against a Goa'uld that was...stronger...was always riskier. Took longer. Anubis, for example. She'd almost given up hope that they'd ever be able to do more than just keep that Goa'uld 'contained'. "Bad, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," Casey replied. She smiled. "Good thing we have The One."

"The colonel would love watching Daniel take him out with, as he so descriptively puts it, 'cool blue fireballs'," Sam smiled in return.

"Moving on to more pleasant subjects," Janet said brightly, knowing that when the time came, SG-1 would take Ares out. It was what they did best...beating the odds, surprising those who watched them...and sometimes themselves. "Friday night."

"Game plan?" Sam asked, grinning broadly.

"We meet at my place. Go from there," Janet replied. "I wish I wasn't on duty Saturday! We could go to Little Joe's for a drink or two afterwards."

"I'm just glad you were able to get out of the overnight duty so that you could go to the show," Casey said.

"Me? Miss 'Thunder From Down Under'?" Janet asked, eyes wide. Her companions giggled. "Doctor Warner knew better than to insist that he couldn't work Friday night!"

Sam toyed with her coffee mug. Glanced over at Casey, hoping that the seer didn't already know what her husband was planning. She didn't have all of the details. Daniel merely asked if she could pick Casey up, and then drop her off out front. He'd been very specific about that part. No pulling into the driveway, he said. He'd refused to elaborate. "I'll pick Casey up," she said in what she hoped was a casual manner. "Then if Daniel wants to go over to watch TV with the colonel, he can."

"Good idea," Casey nodded. "Saves having so many cars in your driveway," she said to Janet.

"Be there by six, and if I'm not there, I will be," Janet agreed.

"I'm hungry," Casey announced, watching as one of the SF's filled a tray with food.

"I could eat," Sam said.

The three women grinned, and hurried to fill trays, sharing an impromptu lunch, and talking about their upcoming night out, and the Air Force Ball that would take place the night after their 'girl's night out', Janet and Sam telling Casey what she could expect at the formal military function.


A  A  A  A  A  A


Ferretti sat back. "Okay. That's it," he said quietly. "Now we wait."

"Did you mention we need the info by tomorrow?" Newsome asked.

"Yep. Gave a date and time."

Deke Anderson frowned. "Let's just hope that he doesn't decide to let Samuels know about this."

"I don't think he will," Ferretti replied. "Those two never seemed to get along whenever they were in the same room together."

"I for one am looking forward to watching Mrs. J take this prick down," Anderson grinned.

"Should be one hell of a show," Ferretti grinned in return. One hell of a show, indeed. And she was doing it out of love. Messing with the Doc was down right suicidal with that little blonde around. Rumor had it a Goa'uld had found that out the hard way. He absently rubbed his balls just thinking about it. Damn, that had to have hurt!


A  A  A  A  A  A


On Friday morning, Ferretti opened his email. Printed out what he'd found, stuck it in a folder. Went in search of the one person to whom the information would mean the most. Accepted her thanks with a wide smile. He hated the Air Force Ball. Was usually willing to take on a duty shift to avoid it. Not this year!


A  A  A  A  A  A


She was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. "The show ends at nine-thirty. We shouldn't be later than ten."

"I'll be here." Yep. He'd be there. Ready and waiting. She was wearing that little black skirt and the black bustier, the red bolero jacket, and the red stilettos with those sexy ankle straps. She hadn't worn that particular outfit in awhile. The last time she'd been going out with Janet and Sam as well. One of these days he was going to have to take her out dancing. And ask her...beg her...to wear the outfit. God, what those shoes did to him!

Her arms went around his neck as soon as she was close enough. "Not one of those guys can ever compare to you, Stud Muffin," she said softly. "I wouldn't even bother going if Janet and Sam hadn't talked me into it."

"Really?" Well, that was a nice ego stroke!

One finger moved over his jaw. "Really. I won't lie and say I won't enjoy it. I mean, it'll be fun. But I know what I have, Daniel. I'm a very lucky woman."

"Funny, I've always thought I was the lucky one," he replied.

He always said the sweetest things...the most perfect things. Comments that made her heart skip a beat, that buried him all the deeper there. "I love you," she sighed.

"Love you too." Before he could kiss her the way he wanted to, just a little preview of things to come, the sound of a car horn pulled them apart.

"That's Sam."


"What are you going to do?"

He grinned. "Oh, I'll think of something."

Had she not been on her way out, excited about her 'girl's night out' with her friends, Casey might have seen the twinkle in his blue eyes. Might have picked up on the fact that he was up to something. But she was...and she didn't. Much to his relief.

Daniel watched her ass all the way to Sam's car. Sighed happily. Closed the door. Looked around. Grinned from ear to ear. Time to put 'The Plan' into action. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and hurried out the back door. The roses were waiting at Emma's. Then there were all of those candles to get out. His cock twitched in anticipation. Down boy, he thought, trying to keep his mind on what needed to be done, and not what would be happening when his Wife walked back through the door.

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